Sky Blue
by ookami123
Summary: AU. In a world of darkness, love can be the brightest light. VH.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it.**

**A/N: Ohmygoodness. I feel like I've been away for a century; to be honest, I basically have. Even if I _tried_ to explain how busy I've been, I doubt anyone would grasp the reality of the situation, which is that my brain has now turned into a post-it note reading "Back in five minutes."**

**ANYWAY. This is a new AU story idea I had, not to say that I've given up on **_Suitor_**, because, trust me, I'm still working on it. I just felt the urge to write something more serious and GRITTY (brilliant adjective). It's from Hitomi's point of view, mainly for variety, also because I wanted to test out my damn fine literary skills (that was sarcastic). If you feel in the mood for a light-hearted banter-fest, I'm afraid this particular story is not for you. All my others are though... so go and read them instead. :3**

**Get ready for a long and winding road of darkness, betrayal, angst, a lot of travelling and, well, you've guessed it: Passion. Steaming, sizzling, brooding passion. I can't wait. I might even have to change the rating, depending on how erm... steamy you like your passion.  
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**Righty. Even I admit that the beginning is hard to follow, so I wouldn't skim-read unless you yearn to confuse yourself.**

**Enjoy!**

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When was the last time you saw blue sky?

Was it yesterday? An hour ago?

Is the sky blue outside your window?

I bet you're looking. And I bet you can see blue, somewhere. You might see blue everywhere, if you're lucky.

Wait. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that luck has nothing to do with it.

Well, you've obviously never been here.

To this place where the only sunlight is candlelight. This darkened place.

When was the last time I saw blue sky?

Ten years ago.

Before they locked the door.

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Sometimes I wake up in the night, and for a moment, a mere second, I cannot remember where I am. The blissful shock of unawareness warms me, frightens me and calms me all at once. It allows my mind to wander, to grasp and snatch at things that escape me when I am fully alert and coherent. That moment is the only freedom I have from this moonlit prison, and it is the only moment I long for during the empty hours that find me here. In that moment, I am no-one and I am everyone. I allow myself to be anyone. For that moment.

Only for a moment.

And then I remember.

And I am trapped again.

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The day I met him was like any other. Dark.

Everything had gone as usual; a maid had come to dress me, another had served breakfast on the small table in my room, and a new book lay, untouched, on one of the tables next to the bed. I had smiled my thanks to the servants, who had not returned the gesture, and I had proceeded to eat the meal in silence as they stood nearby, wondering if today they would answer my questions.

They didn't.

They left, and I sat at the table for a long while afterwards, thinking about nothing of any real consequence. I stared at the shuttered window on the far wall, debating whether or not I should attempt to pry it open again. My thoughts drifted languidly to the last time I had tried.

My fingernails had grown back now, thankfully, though the scars of once deep splinters still sketched over the skin surrounding them. I don't think I'll ever forget the image of those bloodied hands, my hands, clawing their way through the wood, desperately seeking the pain and satisfaction of light, aching to feel something new and real.

They had found me on the floor in tears, my own blood smeared across my face and in my hair; my hands crimson, raw and ripped. Torn. The shutter on the window remained in the same formidable state, mocking the soft flesh that had surrendered so easily to it.

My act of crazed desperation had merely served to exacerbate the situation further. They saw it as a worsening of my illness. Of the illness that had kept me down here for ten years.

I had been told that it was an extremely rare reaction to the sun; so rare that it was unheard of in medical circles. But this "condition", what they saw as fits and episodes where I lost the ability to speak or move or see….I saw as something very different.

I saw visions.

Whether they were truly brought on by the sun or something linked with it, I could not say, I suppose I would never find out. The first had been when I was seven. I had picked a flower from the ground in childlike fascination, only to be overcome with fear so acute I could not move. I remember the experience in viciously clear detail; the way my heart stopped beating with the sudden cease in the passage of time, the way my eyes darkened with images of blood and destruction and gore; the way my hands grasped for the pure white petals that fell from the stem of the bloom and into the fiery ruins. And the crying. I will never forget the sound of crying, so turgid with despair that the resonance was something inhumane. My body had collapsed in a moment, and I had stared up at the sky, tears too heavy to fall from my widened, horrified eyes. The daisy stayed, untainted, in my fingers. My nurse told me later that I had not breathed for several minutes. I forget how long I remained silent after that day.

That had been the first vision, and the least harrowing.

From then on, somehow always in sunlight, inside or out, I would scream and cry out as if I were dying, reach for things I could not reach in this world, scratching and clawing my way out of the hell that possessed me every time I provoked the demon that lay dormant in my mind.

After the fourth "episode", as the doctors called them, it was concluded that I was no longer sane, even considering my serene coherence between each of the visions. I did not tell them what I had seen, simply because I did not know how to express the horror of it at such a young age. My childhood and innocence were snatched from me in an instant, and my freedom crushed with the petals of the last flower I had held in my fingertips. I was banished, but within the walls of the palace. Within the walls of one room.

I sighed, gliding a brush through my short, boyish hair. The maid cut it regularly, in an effort to avoid the inevitable tangles an "episode" may bring. I have to admit that I had no desire to see it long after so many years. New candles had been lit today, I realised as I noticed my pale reflection in the mirror, the pallor of my skin more visible than normal even in the honeyed light. New candles. That meant it was the first of the month.

I put the brush down.

It meant that the King was visiting me today.

It had been a ritual since the end of the first year, when I had been deemed "safe enough" for him to visit without guards or doctors or any suchlike. Once a month, on the morning of the first day, he would ascend the steps up to my rooms and talk briefly with me, words that no longer held any trace of affection or even interest, only spoken out of duty and shame. I hated the minutes he spent with me, however short they may have been. I hated the fear shadowing his eyes, and my reflection within them. I hated the way he never said my name. I hated the fact his complexion was almost as pale as mine, even though he had the choice of covering it with sunlight.

I hated him for doing this to me.

And, most of all, I hated him for being my father.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. I counted the seconds until his imminent arrival. As expected, the key scraped the lock shortly afterwards. I turned at the sound.

My father, tall, solid and unmoving as rock, was shown in, his heavy cloaks and ornaments rustling as they brushed past the doorframe. He did not acknowledge or thank the servant who bowed his respect before leaving us. I frowned.

"Vexed at my arrival already I see." The King regarded me warily, "I daresay this breaks some sort of record."

I stood, swallowed. My hands clasped together in front of me, and my eyes dropped to them in an attempt to avoid the mockery so apparent in his.

"We have much to discuss this morning, daughter."

Daughter. Was I still?

I nodded my understanding silently.

"Let us sit."

"Yes, my Lord."

I walked to the small table in the corner of the room, first pulling a chair out for him before I waited next to another. He glided over leisurely, surveying the enormous room, regarding the tiny, majestic world he had trapped me in. But however luxurious the covers on my four poster bed were, no matter how enormous the fireplace was or how expensive the three piece furniture suite in one corner of the room had been, it was no place for a King. I felt it. There was no doubt in my mind that he felt it too.

He stopped in front of me and regarded the chair I had placed for him, the only other one at the table, as if it were some sort of horrendous torture device. Undoubtedly, for him it was a painful ordeal, talking to his only child, a woman, neither fit for a kingdom nor something so trivial as the judgement of others. I hated that I understood. He sighed, taking a seat. I did so opposite him a moment afterwards.

_He's getting old_. I thought as I looked at his wilting face across the table, at the hands that settled on the wooden top, wrinkled but otherwise flawless. The hands of a King they may have been, but the hands of a man they were not, I thought, wondering if they had ever done a day's real work. It seemed he was ageing in front of my eyes, and I had never noticed before. My thoughts were punctuated by his voice, rasping slightly.

"Have you had any…that is, has there been—"

I caught his meaning.

"No, my Lord. No episodes for six months."

"Good." He seemed to sigh in partial relief. "That is…good."

Uncomfortable, familiar silence settled. The candlelight flickered over the sagging planes of his face.

"I will get straight to the heart of the matter." He said, gravely. At the words, my hands gripped handfuls of my dress under the table. In what emotion, I could not say. Fear is too weak a word to express the way my heart seemed to wrench into my throat. Hope is too strong a term to describe the way it kicked a beat. At my deceptive stillness, he continued.

"You have reached your eighteenth year, have you not?" I sensed the question was rhetorical, but nodded anyway.

"Indeed." He continued, "Then no doubt you are aware of the implications that come with this age?"

I shook my head slowly. He frowned.

"I had hoped you would have some idea, child." His words conveyed the shame I continued to cast upon him, "Some idea of what is expected of you in this complex situation."

_Expected of me?_ I thought. _I assumed the only thing expected of me was silence. _

"Forgive my ignorance, my Lord." My submissiveness did not betray the raw anxiety plummeting through my veins. Did he plan to send me away? To let me out?

My father sighed once more. The sound was heavy and laboured.

"The kingdom needs an heir." He said plainly after a long moment, looking at me intently, "A male heir."

I blinked.

Oh God.

I understood his implication immediately. And yet I could not comprehend the lunacy of it. He continued to stare at me, wide eyed, insinuating the obvious, the unfathomable meaning of his words.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"But surely you can't mean—"

"My ailing health and my age have disabled me from taking on the responsibility myself." He interrupted, procrastinating though the outcome was inevitable.

"It falls to you, as my only child, to produce the heir to the throne. A son."

I could not make sense of the words.

"But—"

"I have organised a suitable match—"

"But I—"

"You _must_ do this." His sharpened tone halted my appeal, and he stood, towering over me, a giant, "If there is no blood heir when I expire, then this Kingdom will go to the _dogs_, child. And I'll be damned if I let that sullied fate interfere with the one this family has woven over the last three centuries."

I stuttered over my confusion and fear, my hands coming up to scratch the wooden surface of the table. It came to me to do the only thing I could. Beg.

Tears pricked my eyes. "But…but I don't understand, I… _cannot_…father, _please_, surely there must be…_surely_ I—" I stopped when I saw his expression. His face, the weariness in his eyes, told me _this_, told me _I, _was the last resort. His last resort.

"You will remain here in isolation. I have arranged for—"

"Oh father no, please!" I stood up at the affirmation that I would stay imprisoned, begged, reached for his hands, "Do not keep me up here and ask this of me!" Flinching as he snatched his hands out of my reach, I followed as he strode to the door, "Father! _Please_, you cannot ask this of me! What will become of me?! Father! I cannot! I _will_ not—"

Without warning, he whirled towards me, explosive with rage, "Oh, you will! Mark me, girl, you _will_ do this! I have chosen a prince for you, do you hear? I have chosen him because he is the only one who might even _consider_ consenting to wed you!"

I blinked, taken aback

"W-Wed?"

The king ignored me, "And that is only because his own backwater country no longer exists! He is your only chance; he is this Kingdom's only hope for a future!" He bellowed, "You will marry him and you will beget an heir before the month is out!"

"B-Beget…" My throat closed, "…a month?!"

"A month!" He shouted, enraged for reasons unbeknownst to me, "Or else you shall never see the light of day again! I swear it!" His face darkened in the dim light, and his tone dropped menacingly as he repeated the words anew. "I swear it."

We shared a one final stare, his gaze defiant, mine utterly defeated.

And then he moved, his clothes swishing as he turned on his heel. The door opened from outside.

As it closed behind him, I fell to my knees and cried.

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My insides knotted with dread that night as I looked out the window. The moon, a crescent diamond cut into ebony, shone brighter than I remembered ever seeing it. It seemed to me to be an omen; something threatening and sharp, pale as death. Something lurking in the darkness.

I had studied the moon in all forms. Nightfall was the only time the shutters on my window were opened; it was the only time I could open the glass and view the outside world. But the connection was always cosmetic. Even though I could taste the night air and feel the breeze on my skin, nature and everything in it was still too far away to touch. The bars on the window frame and the guards pacing outside made it intangible.

But amongst the familiar feelings of unease I had that night, there was also the unfathomable urge to imagine his face. The prince's face. Whoever he was.

Honestly, I expected the worst. After all, what reason did my father have to present me with somebody my own age, somebody who had things in common with me? He had no reason to please me. More importantly, he had no choice in his choosing who would be suitable; this prince was, essentially, a king without a kingdom. He needed this marriage just as my father needed an heir. So what choice did _I _have in the matter?

Even if he was a vile creature, old and fat and putrid smelling, what choice did I have?

But… for some reason, as I imagined his face in the moonlight, it was not so beastly as I had feared. My mind seemed to conjure pictures of bright eyes, blonde hair, a kind smile. I imagined him to be older than me by only a few years, tall, a knight in shining armour perhaps. Perhaps he would take care of me.

Perhaps he would save me.

I could only hope.

I sighed. I didn't even _want_ a husband, let alone a child. I didn't want any of this. And yet here I was, imagining a man, a lover, smiling at me and telling me he loved me, that he would save me and protect me and…

What was the point?

My hopes would only be shrouded in the morning, along with the inevitable rising of the sun.

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Even as I waited, I had no real idea what would happen. That is what frightened me so. I had no idea when he would come or if he would come here or what we'd have to do or…

I had no idea.

I didn't know how this was going to work. The politics of the situation seemed to me the most problematic of all; if I married and had a child, surely that child would be heir to the _Prince's_ throne but…but then I suppose if he no longer had a throne then surely he wasn't a prince anymore and so…so perhaps…

My head fell into my hands without provocation. I was kidding myself. The most problematic— _terrifying_ thing about this situation was not the politics. No. It was the fact that I hadn't spoken to any man but my father since I was eight years old. It was the fact that I would have to marry one and…and sleep with one.

With the decade I'd had to educate myself with books and such, of course I was familiar with the act of procreation. I knew its scientific details, I knew what it did and how it did it. However, that was not to say I was in any way familiar with…how to do it. I understood that such an act brought no pleasure for either party, or at least, none for the woman as much as I could decipher. It was, quite literally, a duty that I had to do. A duty and nothing more. To bear a child.

But I wondered what would become of the prince afterward. My father obviously meant to keep me up here indefinitely, infinitely; so where did that leave my would be husband and the would be heir? Once the babe was born, would it then be snatched away from me? If it was a girl, would it be merely discarded? Discarded as I had been?

I just didn't understand how it would work. I didn't understand my father or how he'd gone about convincing somebody to marry a "madwoman". That is, if he'd even told them the details.

The fire crackled a few feet away, followed by a clanging from the clock above it, naming the hour to be noon. I took my feet down from the settee as a servant suddenly scratched at the door.

It opened without my permission, as was the norm, and a familiar maid entered, curtseyed, looked worried for a moment when she obviously couldn't spot me in the darkness of the room, before finally gesturing to somebody else outside the door. My mouth turned dry and stale, and my heat beat furiously, violently within my chest as I realised who it was.

The maid cleared her throat.

"His Highness Lord Fanel to see you, my Lady." Her mousy voice announced, "On your father's orders."

I immediately stood as I heard his first booted footstep, though in the darkness I could not tell so well if he had entered the room. Suddenly a man's low timbre vibrated through me.

"Leave us." It commanded, towards the servant. I shivered in anticipation and fear at its authoritative tone. He was most certainly royalty.

To my surprise, the maid did indeed leave the room. It confused me that my father had consented for this stranger and I to be left alone so soon. Surely he couldn't already mean to…mean to—

"Come into the light." His dark voice vibrated through me, seemed to sing in my veins, "I can barely see you."

I looked at the floor, bit my lip. Surely what I looked like would hardly matter in all this. Nevertheless, I walked towards the fireplace as steadily as I was able, eyes down. I heard him approach simultaneously, and the thought of our inevitable meeting in a matter of seconds was enough to make my stomach roil. Though his voice betrayed a maturity that I feared I lacked, it couldn't have belonged to someone much older than me. I quashed the quiver of hope that sprouted to life inside me with the thought that he very well could be 50 years old for all I knew. But then that familiar image returned to me, of the azure eyes, what I imagined to be the colour of the sky, and the blonde hair, the sun…and the smile, so pleased I was his. Perhaps this would be him. My knight.

I stopped when I saw his black boots reflect the firelight, my eyes still trained on the floor. He stood still, clearly awaiting my reaction.

I took a breath. Then I looked up…and it caught in my throat.

That image of sunshine and blue skies, of an angel coming to rescue me…could not have been more wrong.

In the firelight, the strong angles of his face were severe, chiselled. Frightening. He was tall, lean, and had obviously been travelling from the creases in his well tailored, simple clothes. His hair was not blonde; it was black. Ebony. Obsidian. It was the night that I knew so well. His mouth held no smile, though neither did it hold any traces of other emotion. It seemed firm and set, but not grim. I briefly felt the urge to see it move, in speech or otherwise.

And then I saw his eyes.

The candlelight did nothing to soften their infinite darkness, the intensity with which they held me, unmoving. Such eyes…they belonged to a hawk, a panther. They belonged to a hunter. His stare was predatory, inescapable even if I'd tried to flee. I did not try. I could not. I could feel it raking me, making a study of me in the dim light. The feeling was more than unsettling, and yet for some reason I did not fidget, nor did I try to stop him.

We seemed to stay like that for hours, though I'm sure it must have only been a moment. Looking back, I realise now that it always felt like that with him.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow I found my voice.

"I…Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness." I curtseyed as if I'd been doing it every day of my life. When his eyes met mine once more, they seemed to hold some kind of bitter amusement.

He bowed in answer, though I felt the gesture was a little mocking.

"The pleasure is mutual, my Lady," His features did not betray any such sentiment. He straightened. Silence settled between us, punctuated by the crackling of the fire beside us.

Thankfully, I noticed he did not look at all much older than me, and was certainly, _certainly_ not fat. It seemed he did not cling to the regular pretensions of handsomeness, though his striking countenance held another sort of beauty entirely. Dark, dangerous beauty. The kind that is more a curse than a blessing, given to those who do not wish for it and yet are punished for possessing it. I suddenly felt very embarrassed, afraid of his judgement of me, pale and weak, while his honeyed skin glowed in the firelight and his fine figure dominated the entirety of the suite.

_He could have done so much better than me._ I found myself thinking.

"We are… to be married at sunset." His voice, suddenly quiet and rather strained, pierced my thoughts. I swallowed, docile.

"Are we?" I looked down at the floor again, striving to say something appropriate, "I am… I am very happy, my Lord."

"I doubt that very much." He said quietly, much to my surprise. My eyes lifted to his, to find them looking at me, into me. Without warning, he took a step toward me, grabbing my shoulders. The simple touch sent my senses spiralling. His face was only inches away from mine, his hands touching me, his breath fanning over my cropped hair.

"Let us make clear immediately that neither of us are "happy" about this situation." I suspected these words betrayed more his own feelings on the subject, rather than mine.

"But know this," He continued, intense, "I will not hurt you, and I will not force you to…" His eyes closed for a moment before regarding me with some unfathomable emotion, "…I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do."

I swallowed, unable to wrench my gaze away from his.

"I… "

There was a violent rap on the door. The Prince's hands fell away from my shoulders abruptly. I silently mourned the loss.

The servant from earlier entered. She curtsied hastily, her breathing heavy as though she had run all the way back up the stairs.

"Beg Pardon, my Lord…but I have just been informed that you are not to stay here, the other servants said that his highness never permitted you—"

The Prince held up a hand to silence her.

"Don't read into it." The hand lowered, "I will go."

He turned to me in the darkness.

"Until sunset."

I nodded, my reply escaping only as a hushed, "Sunset."

Our eyes locked. I shivered inwardly, though I did not understand why.

He left without a backward glance.

And it was then that I realised… the next time I would see him, I would be tied to him forever.

Yet, somehow, part of me knew that my heart already had been.

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**Well, Well, Welllll....**

**What do we think? **

**Interested? Would you like the next chapter?  
**

**By the by, if you've read it, dear reader, do review. How very kind you are. How very english I am.**

**TOODLES!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**** Hello you! Here I am, updating this story after... er... well, let's just say a rather lengthy amount of time. Sorry about that!**

**Hooooooopefully there are still some readers out there. Thanks for everyone's comments; the PM's especially were lovely. **

**I should totally be revising right now. In fact, this whole chapter has been written in shame, because, dear reader, just for you, I have ignored my revision needs completely in order to finish it. SHAKESPEARE CAN JUST BE QUIET. I'm so sick of Hamlet feeling sorry for himself, I can't bear to read his lengthy soliloquies anymore. **

**My first exam is in a week... oh lordy.**

**ANYWAY, enjoy!  
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_The darkness taught me not to be afraid of shadows. Sometimes the deepest secrets can be found there. _

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There was nothing romantic about it, I tried to convince myself as I was led up a flight of non-descript stairs. There was absolutely nothing romantic about a ceremony under the moonlight, nothing poetic in the silent watch of the stars, nor in the breath of wind which made the trees shudder their eerie wedding march. No. I did not want this.

How could I allow myself to want something so entirely out of my control?

It was the first time I had left my prison in ten years, though it hardly counted. I was still under close watch as we ascended the stairs up to the battlements of the palace. My heart was racing, though I did not let myself believe it was from anything other than fatigue and anxiety. My feet climbed and climbed the cold stone, without will, without provocation from any conscious part of my mind, as if they knew that resistance was pointless. An odd part of me felt as if I were being led to my execution. I suppose I was, in a sense. After all, this marriage was a thing born of desperation, of mere responsibility. I did not delude myself into thinking it could grow into anything more. Any ideas I may have had of love had died long ago. And if not, they were certainly dying now.

My thoughts strayed to the dark prince. I wondered what he must be thinking; waiting for me in the cold, wondering what on earth was to become of him after the ceremony. Since our unsolicited meeting earlier, I had considered what must have happened in his country for him to be cast out in such a manner, and the only thing that had come to mind was the word I knew my father feared most: Revolution.

Perhaps…well, was _his_ father still alive? Perhaps he had been killed or had vanished … and what about the rest of his family?

Or was he truly as alone as his eyes betrayed?

The maid in front of me opened the latch on the door we had finally reached. I could feel the breeze that squeezed under it on my toes, fighting its way through the cracks in the wood. When it opened, the first thing I realised was that I had not savoured the last time I had been let out into the open air, those ten years ago. My imprisonment had been something unexpected, something that I was not able to consciously prepare myself for. So this time, I thought, this last time, I would make every pore relish every taste of the outside it was about to receive. Tonight, I promised myself, I would feast upon nature and all it allowed me to feel.

I followed the servant out into the night, my silk shoes silent upon the stone beneath my feet. Looking up, I saw the moon as a tear in the night's ebony shroud, as a shard of crystal that had smashed violently, its minute splinters forming the stars that filled the darkness. I couldn't stop myself from halting then, from taking in the vastness of the sky. I had only seen it through a window all these years, had only been able to take a piece of it and watch it change with the seasons. This…this endless sea of black was a picture that I had forgotten. I fought back the urge to weep with the beauty of it all. The beauty I would never see again.

"My lady." A familiar, low voice brought my eyes down to earth.

I turned, eyes wide still, to see the prince standing a few feet away. He had obviously approached me as I'd drifted into my own world. Caught in my reverie as I was, I could not comprehend the look on his face. With the darkness shadowing his features in icy monochrome, his expression was unfathomable. Naturally, this darkness suited him, as I had well predicted. He had changed clothes since I'd seen him previously that day, now dressed from head to toe in black, blending seamlessly with the natural backdrop of the night. I blinked. Swallowed.

"My Lord." I replied, curtseying awkwardly. My eyes drifted to another man, the would-be priest, standing ill at ease behind him. Who knew how much money my father had bribed him with to do such a thing and keep quiet about it. Selfless indeed, this idea of religion.

The prince stepped forward and took my hand in his own, surprisingly warm one. The contact made me jump inwardly. In my head, I suddenly felt the urge to remind myself that my hand would not be the only part of my body he would touch tonight. My heart kicked a beat. He led us to where the other man stood, wordlessly. I shivered when he dropped my fingers and stood opposite me. The priest, rather a squat man when contrasted so closely with such lithe elegance, cleared his throat unnecessarily between us.

"I will not bother with the preliminaries." He stated, his voice shrill in the silence, "I assume you will understand my reasoning."

The prince nodded once opposite me. It was only then I realised I had been staring at him quite openly. I quickly moved my gaze onto the priest, who seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction on my part. I uttered a hasty, "O-Of course."

"Very well," He continued, "Then presuming that neither party has prepared any vows, let us begin."

The priest recited, and the prince repeated. Recitation, repetition. Recitation, repetition. And then apparently it was my turn.

I heard him offer me the words, heard them escape my lips in a voice that seemed barely my own, but for the life of me I could not understand how I managed it. As I finished, my hand was suddenly raised from its place at my side, gripping the fabric of my day dress, my cold palm colliding with the prince's warm one. My eyes followed the movement of the priest's surprisingly nimble fingers as he wrapped a swathe of white silk around our wrists, binding us together for the night. For what was supposed to be eternity.

"With this promise, and nature as your witness, you are bound together for as long as you both shall live. I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest's hands dropped from between us as ours remained as one, suspended in the air.

"You may kiss."

Our eyes met.

I saw him swallow before my own breath caught. Leaning in slightly, he steadied me (or perhaps himself?) with a hand on my shoulder. His lips were a hair's breadth from mine; the air I tasted was shared between us. I could swear my heart had stopped for the silence that descended around us.

And then…

He whispered something that made my eyes widen.

"You will see blue sky again," He breathed so only I could hear, "I swear it."

I barely noticed the kiss he placed, chaste and utterly innocent, at the corner of my lips.

~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~0~o~

My eyes stared, unblinking, back at me through the mirrored glass, but otherwise the reflection was not my own. The clasped hands, wringing the air were not mine; the legs that shook with anxiety, that caused tremors to run through my night rail were not mine either; the expression, so unnervingly calm…it could not have been mine. It was only the eyes that I recognised, filled with the fear I knew so well, which betrayed that this barely clad body was my own.

"His lordship will be up in a moment, my Lady." The maid's parting words of several minutes before still hung in my mind, "If…if I could but offer some sound advice to you, my lady…" She had worried her lip, obviously apprehensive of speaking out of place.

My eyes had just widened, which she had seen as a sign to continue.

"Well I…I might just tell you that there will be pain, my Lady, although you must know that he is not truly harming you…" She carried on quickly, "And you may bleed, but that is normal too." Regarding my expression of diluted shock, she hastily backtracked.

"Mind, it is only for this first time, my Lady. Afterwards it…" She seemed to haul in whatever she'd been about to say, blushing lightly. "Well, my lady, it becomes rather nice after that first time."

I had swallowed, reddening. Bearing in mind that this short explanation of losing one's virginity was the most this maid had said to me in a decade, I was rather startled, to say the least. Somehow, I had nodded my thanks towards her, incapable of speech as I was. She had smiled slightly in some form of female understanding, closing the door softly as she left me to wait alone.

It had taken a few minutes for me to remind myself that whatever pain was to be expected could not possibly be _that_ bad. After all, every woman who could call herself a… _woman_ had been…well, in this peculiar position. How was I any different?

Fleetingly, I wondered if this would be the first time for the prince as well. Part of me, the logical part no doubt, did not believe so. Things were not the same for men and women, or so my nurse had told me at the age of seven, when I had asked why I was never allowed to walk next to my father or sit next to him at dinner. And it was perfectly true. Things were most definitely not the same for men and women. I doubted they would ever be so.

Regardless of all of this, however, a small piece of me, perhaps the only romantic piece left in my weary heart, rejoiced in the fact I would have company for a short time. I was not one to refuse such gifts when they were offered plainly to me, even if they were in the form of a brooding member of distant royalty. This man, this…dark, misunderstood prince seemed to be my salvation, and yet I could not stop the spark of unease that had begun to smoulder in my blood. I could not stop the shivers that rattled my bones and caused my teeth to chatter.

Time stretched cruelly, and as the seconds and minutes spent themselves in the shadows, I grew more and more restless. I kept looking down at my wrist, to where the skein of silk from the ceremony had once been tied. I hadn't initially thought I would have time to myself after we had been wed, and yet as the Prince and I had approached my chamber, tied together still, he had stopped outside the door. Wordlessly, he'd raised our coupled hands and unbound them. In answer to my attempt at objection, he had simply looked at me, muttering softly, "Prepare yourself. I'll wait". With that, he had turned and descended the staircase. I had merely been able to watch him leave in astonishment, his kindness shocking me into stillness. I knew he would return in a matter of minutes, and yet I appreciated every single one I would have alone.

Finally, there was a knock on the door. I swallowed. My time was up. I opened my mouth to speak, and yet when I did, all that surfaced was a soundless croak. I cleared my throat.

"C-Come in."

The latch raised and the hinges creaked as he entered. I turned from the mirror but refused to look to him, instead regarding the floor, examining the cold, dead stone. His footsteps stopped briefly, and I heard the door close once more. When only silence accompanied the crackling of the fire once again, I blinked and looked up, almost expecting to find the room empty. Devoid of the man who'd been sent to defile me. Use me.

But my gaze fell on his strangely elegant form immediately. He was leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes, practically obscured by a slash of ebony hair, were trained on mine. He studied me, wordlessly taking in my appearance with unnerving stillness, those eyes darting down my thinly-veiled body before catching the fear in my stare once again. He moved towards me without warning, and I did little to conceal the jolt of disquiet that flashed through my body, making me gasp and stagger away. The motion caused him to stop mid-stride.

"Don't be frightened." He said, surprisingly gently. Keeping his eyes on mine, he took another small step. "I'm… not going to hurt you."

I swallowed. I felt like a frightened animal, caught in a hunter's grasp. I couldn't move, my limbs heavy and so fraught with anxiety that I could not stir them. He continued to approach me, slowly, his hand reaching out in a gesture of compassion.

"Trust me." His voice was velvet, rich and dark, "I swear I won't hurt you."

I regarded the outstretched hand warily, my own fingers trembling next to where his waited patiently in the muggy air.

Trust him?

"Please."

My eyes drifted back to his. They were intent upon mine, dark, even in the amber glow drifting from the coals in the nearby fireplace. Deciding I could not shy away with him so near to me, I put my hand in his for the second time that night. His long fingers closed slowly around mine, callused, hardened, but warm. That warmth seemed to pass up my arm, through my shoulders and into my heart, where it beat comfortingly against my breast, reminding me I was alive and breathing. Barely breathing though, I realised. We regarded each other then, waiting for the sudden tension between us to ebb away.

"I don't know what you want me to do." I seemed to admit, involuntarily, my hushed voice simply answering the question in those probing, hawk-like eyes of his, "I've… never… been with a man before."

He blinked, seemingly startled by my questioning.

"I haven't come here to lie with you." He said, shaking his head. I tried not to collapse with relief.

"But—"

"I came here to tell you that I'm going to help you get out of here."

My lips parted in surprise. He looked so intent, so serious… it was as if… as if he actually meant it.

"What?" Was the only word I could manage. His hand was hot in mine.

"We're leaving this place." He uttered, quietly, dangerously. "Together."

I blinked.

"You're—"

"Tonight."

My thoughts scattered. My eyes widened. My throat closed. The possibility of escape frightened me into stillness. After a moment of silence, the prince, obviously confused at my understated reaction, narrowed his eyes.

"Do you understand?" He pressed, obviously impatient.

I blinked wildly. "I… I…"

But I didn't know what to say. What _could_ I have said at that moment that would have summed up all the dread and wonderment I'd felt? There was nothing that could have accurately depicted how terrified I was of the sky and the sun, nothing that could convey how I longed to breathe air that hadn't feasted on the flames of dozens of candles. But how, and why he intended to do such a thing for me… I did not know. We were strangers, thrust together by the desperation of a king, the desolation of a father. We were not friends, nor anything near. We were merely husband and wife, and only in name.

The prince grabbed my shoulders suddenly, taking me from my reverie and back into the stuffy room in which we stood, tense and uneasy, opposite each other.

"Will you come?" He asked, slowly, each word engraining itself into my consciousness. I swallowed. Why was he suddenly so on edge? Something inside him appeared to have snapped in desperation.

"But I—… Why are you doing this? Why are you… helping me?"

He took a breath and looked deeply into my eyes. I suppressed a shiver at the darkness looming there.

"What your father has done to you… is wrong." He unhanded my shoulders, scanning the room quickly, "That's all you need to know for now."

My eyes flickered back and forth between his roaming ones.

"For now?" I repeated, mindless with confusion, "But… surely you can't be serious, I—"

He pinned me with a level glare, "I'm always serious." He walked to the open window before looking back at me briefly, "You'd do well to remember that."

I swallowed again, disbelieving, frightened. This was getting ridiculous.

"Do you honestly think my father will let you, let _both_ of us, just… just _walk_ out of here!?"

The prince glanced at me again. He seemed poised to turn away, as always, and yet this time he could not seem to stop his eyes from following my form from the top of my mussed hair to the peeping tips of my toes.

"You should change."

"You're not answering my question!" I blinked, "I— change…?" I looked down, immediately reddening as I recognized the near translucency of my gown in the firelight. I glanced up at him shamefully, crossing my hands over my chest, a rudimentary suit of armour, protecting me from his harsh, hawk-like gaze. He looked away, muttering something incoherently. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was slightly disgusted at the sight of me. My fingers clutched tighter at the sheer fabric beneath them.

"_Change_." He repeated, the harshness of his tone causing me to jump slightly. I swallowed, defeated.

"…into what?" I whispered, suddenly fighting back tears for reasons I did not know.

"I don't give a damn." His bluntness gave way to dislike on my part, "Just make sure it's more than a scrap of silk; you'll have to move in it."

He began to pace as I edged towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room. He looked to me like a caged, wild animal; ready to pounce, to hunt, ready to flee as if his life depended on it. I wondered whether perhaps it truly did. I closed my eyes briefly as I turned my back to him.

"We can't do this, my Lord." I said softly, shaking my head. "There's no point in trying so soon." My hands, shaking too, reached for the wardrobe doors while I attempted to stall for time, "The guards… they're everywhere, my Lord. Perhaps… perhaps we should wait—"

"We can't wait."

"But—"

"Look, I thought I had more time, but I don't, so either you leave with me tonight or you stay here and suffer the consequences." His voice was sharp behind me. "Which do you choose? Be quick and be certain."

I swallowed, the seconds stretching on before I turned to face him. The tension between us was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It seemed to burn stronger than the fire beside us.

"Tell me what's going on." I demanded, quietly.

His eyes narrowed.

"Come with me."

I shook my head, resolve coming from a place inside me I had never been aware of. "I'm not going anywhere unless you…explain yourself."

He glared at me.

"You would choose rape over freedom, would you?" His words made me flinch. "You would be whored by your father to countless, desperate suitors rather than start a new life with me?"

My expression did not change, though he must have read the profound sorrow in my eyes, for his tone quieted slightly. He approached me before I could move away, taking my shoulders again, albeit more gently than before.

"Come with me, Hitomi." My name on his lips sent my senses reeling. I could barely breathe, he was so close to me again. I shut my eyes tight, but I couldn't stop one solitary tear from gliding across my skin.

"I'll tell you everything if you just…" His fingers drifted along my cheek, catching the tear before it dropped. "Please…"

I shuddered, my eyes opening to his, dark and warm and sinful, so close to mine I couldn't think anymore.

"I… can't." I tried to move away, more tears falling as I shook my head in denial, but he just pulled me back, closer than before. I closed my eyes to him again, whispering over and over, "I can't, I—"

His lips found mine as if it were the easiest, most natural thing in the world. They were warm and soft, and so gentle that I barely felt them at first. But then I gasped, and the action gave way to such startling friction that I did it again… and that was my undoing. He rubbed his mouth across mine, his lips moving only slightly, but enough to send shivers through me. I had no idea what to do, but I couldn't… _think_. My hands scrambled for purchase on anything nearby, but found only the warmth of his arms to grasp onto. I tried to react, and yet it seemed I already was, my lips moving in some primal response that beat hard in my blood.

But his caress ended all too soon, and I fought the urge to follow when he moved away. His eyes were hooded, fixed on the mouth he had taken only moments ago. Before I could gather the energy to speak, his thumb caressed my cheek lightly, smearing tears over my skin.

"Come with me."

I swallowed, my thoughts scattering like matchsticks. It was the second time he'd kissed me that evening, and yet this one had felt so different from the chaste one he'd given me a mere hour before. This one had felt… amazing. Rapturous. Addictive. I blinked the thoughts away.

"But my… my disease." Finally, coherence returned, "I can't leave, it's too dangerous, I—"

"I'll take care of you."

My eyes widened at the words, before filling anew with tears.

Nobody had ever said that to me. Nobody had ever cared.

I bit my lip, "Where would we go?"

"To Fanelia, my—…" He stopped himself, sighing before gradually moving away from me. "We'll go to Fanelia. I've been running for too long, and we—" His eyes caught mine before he turned to the fireplace, "…_you_, can be free there."

I chose to ignore his obscure phrasing. The thought of freedom anywhere was persuasive enough, I didn't care so much about the details. But even if I did go with him, there still remained the problem of… well, how we'd escape this prison in the first place.

"How are we going to get out of here?" I asked him, quietly, after a moment. He continued to stare into the fire, silently accepting the choice I had made. He seemed to be rather pensive all of a sudden. I supposed talking about his old country gave him much to think about. After a moment, he answered me.

"There's only one guard standing outside this door, and once I knock him unconscious then it should be simple enough just to sneak into the grounds through my chamber."

I almost choked on my breath.

"One guard?!" I repeated, disbelievingly, "… but there are— my father always told me there were dozens watching me!"

The prince looked at me then, and I saw pity in his eyes.

"I fear you have been lied to for longer than you care to imagine." He turned back to the fire, his forearms braced on the mantelpiece.

I felt the handle of the wardrobe dig into my back as I leant on it for support. All this time… all this time I'd thought I had no chance of escape…when there was only _one _guard outside my door? There were plenty of heavy objects I could have knocked him out with by now. I closed my eyes in frustration. I had been so foolish. Although, there remained a voice in my mind that wondered: even if I had known the truth, would I really have tried?

The prince was looking at me again, I noticed. Hastily, I turned my back to him.

"I'll change now."

I grabbed my least constrictive dress, a dark garment of almost indescribable colour, uncorseted and, as far as I could tell, warm. Even though its skirts still reached the floor, it seemed the most suitable choice for travelling. Grabbing the 'sturdiest' looking pair of silk slippers I had, I took everything behind the changing screen and proceeded to dress myself as best I could.

"Do you need to take anything with you?" His voice reached me from the other side of the screen after a few minutes had passed. He was pacing again. I tied the last cord of my bodice, cinching in the excess fabric at my waist before replying.

"There's nothing here that I want to remember."

He seemed to consider my statement for a moment.

"Nothing?"

I stepped out from behind the screen, smoothing my skirts before looking up at him.

"Nothing." I said simply, before moving back to my closet to search for a cloak, even if I suspected I didn't have one. I could feel him staring at my back.

"Take something."

I blinked and twisted my head back to look at him.

"What?"

But he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring out the open window into the night.

"If I had known…" He began to say, his eyes suddenly distant, caught in his past, "If I had known what would happen to my home… to my family…" He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly before turning to hold mine. "I would have taken something to remember them by."

I wasn't certain I understood, but the rawness that bled through his façade of indifference gave me pause.

"I—"

"Believe me," He started before I could ask him anything more, "It's easier than you think to forget who you are."

Barely perceptively, I shook my head in confusion, "But… why would…"

"It happens." He said quietly.

He turned away, leaving me to process his words as I continued my search for a cloak. At that moment, to me it seemed the darkness I saw in his eyes had already found its way into his very being. He sounded so… wounded. Tortured, even. I frowned. The only thing I could even think of taking was the new book I'd been given the day before. I didn't even know what it was about; I hadn't had time to even pick it up.

"I don't have a cloak." I said after a moment, facing him once more. The words seemed small and trite in the face of his melancholy.

"I'll give you mine." He said simply, approaching me, "Are you ready?"

I nodded, though I wasn't even certain I was. I wasn't certain I could ever be. He returned the gesture.

"Let's go."

He turned and walked to the door. I followed, scooping up the book from my bedside table. I looked at the leather-bound cover.

"_**The Dragon's Lady"**_

A story. Hopefully it would serve as a useful distraction from the chaos that was set to ensue.

"Ready?" The prince asked me again, causing me to look up from the book and into his eyes, serious and set upon me.

"Yes."

"Do what I say, don't question it." He said, intense though his voice had lowered to a whisper so the guard couldn't hear outside the door, "Be ready to run the minute I tell you to, and don't make a sound."

I nodded. He knocked on the inside of the door, a sign to be let out, before turning to me once more.

"And one more thing, Hitomi. Don't change your mind half-way." He breathed. "Because then we'll both be dead."

I heard the lock crack open from outside. The prince exchanged one more pointed glance with me before slipping out of the door. It locked behind him, the clanging of metal echoing through the room. And when I was left alone in silence once again, the sheer magnitude of the decision I'd made hit me with such force I practically swooned.

I was leaving.

I would be free.

And yet the enigma of my disease still clung to the back of every thought of freedom. Would I ever truly be free from it? The prince had said that my father had been "wrong" in keeping me here… but had he been wrong about me being a danger to those around me? Had he been wrong in thinking me a danger to myself?

I heard something heavy hit the floor outside the door, shortly before the lock clicked open once again. For a split second, I considered the possibility of the guard walking in, the prince's blood on his hands; the plan failed before it had even begun. That's when I realised. I had to do this.

I blinked as the prince shoved the door open hastily, shaking his hand out as if it pained him. His eyes found me in the same place I had been standing a moment ago, and motioned for me to follow. I obeyed. He took my hand with his good one, and led me out into the corridor, past the sole guard slumped against the wall, unconscious, and onto the first flight of stone steps. We moved silently in the candlelight.

And as our escape dawned on me, I could only begin to wonder: why had he been so desperate for me to come with him?

I clasped his hand tighter. Only time could tell, I thought, as his squeezed mine back in answer.

-

-

* * *

**Where will they go? Nobody knows. **

**Oh wait, Fanelia.  
**

**... Well that failed.**

**Anyway, if you loved it/hated it/averagely accepted it/just fell asleep whilst reading it - please review.**

**I'll be writing writing writing as soon as my A levels are finished, so, until then, wish me luck.**

**TOODLES!**


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